


Let You Down

by xseaxwitchx



Series: Songfics [1]
Category: DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Get your tissues, bc you will cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 09:19:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14891882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xseaxwitchx/pseuds/xseaxwitchx
Summary: A songfic based on NF's "Let You Down" centered around Jason Todd.





	Let You Down

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I did this justice.

_Feels like we're on the edge right now_ __  
_I wish that I could say I'm proud_ __  
_I'm sorry that I let you down_  
_Let you down_

“Burning down the warehouse was completely unnecessary, Hood,” Batman growls out as the flames burn behind him, framing his scowl viciously.

Red Hood keeps his back to the Bat, a beat of silence between them. Robin wisely decided to wait in the Batmobile as Batman scolds his second eldest.

“This warehouse was mine,” Red Hood says, crossing his arms after placing a pistol back in its holster. “Those drug-dealing scumbags had it coming; they worked for me and one of my informants told me he saw them dealing to kids”--he turns around suddenly--”something I told them I wouldn’t allow or they’d end up dead.”

“You killed those people,” Batman retorts. His stoicness fails to reach his tone as it slightly wavers but a waver the Red Hood misses.

“I thought you would’ve gotten over that by now, Batman. Just when I thought you couldn’t surprise me anymore,” Red Hood says. He turns back around and heads to the edge of the roof, fully prepared to jump off and grapple at the last second.

“Red Hood...Jason...just listen to me for once.” Batman’s voice stops the Red Hood before he could jump down not out of kindness or sympathy but curiosity.

He steps away from the edge and walks to a transformer that sits on the roof both men occupied for the moment.

The Red Hood folds his arms across his chest before saying anything. “Alright, old man, I’ll amuse you.” He smirks regardless of the fact Batman can’t see his face.

“Nothing is stopping you from being better than that; overcoming your old ways.” Batman lets out a sigh. His attempt to step closer is halted by the rise of one hand from the man sitting on the transformer.

“Aaaand I’m going to stop you right there. Not interested. Goodbye.” Red Hood gets up from his position and walks back to the edge, this time not hesitating to make the jump. He grapples at the last second and swings to a rooftop about a city block from the rooftop he and Batman occupied moments ago.

He looks back in that direction and sure enough, an outline of the Bat can be seen in the moonlight. Jason always hated how the city had such horrid poetry written not only in her bricks but in the sky as well.

“He’ll never understand because he’s never lived in the city; he’ll never understand because he’ll never understand the city.”

 _All these voices in my head get loud_ __  
_I wish that I could shut them out_ __  
_I'm sorry that I let you down_  
_Le-le-let you down_

**************

_Yeah, I guess I'm a disappointment, doin' everything I can_ __  
_I don't wanna make you disappointed, it's annoying_ __  
_I just wanna make you feel like everything I ever do_ __  
_Was never tryna make an issue for you, but I guess the more you_ __  
_Thought about everything you were never even wrong_  
_In the first place, right? Yeah, I'ma just ignore you_

“At least I brought him back in time!” Jason raises his voice and it echoes through the cave. He’s about five feet away from Bruce and yet again finds himself in the position of the wrongdoer.

“You wouldn’t have to have worried about that if you didn’t open fire the way you did when you three ambushed the delivery truck,” Bruce responds equal force but still a low tone.

“My bullets were meant to be a damn distraction; it’s not my fault the self-sacrificing idiot decided to jump in front of one and save the life of a worthless thug.”

“At least he knows the value of a life, no matter how much bad the person’s done.”

Jason’s face drops from its scowl, replaced by a genuine expression of shock. His body goes lax and all the fight he had in him drains from his shoulders and back, his legs opting for a casual stance.

“You don’t think I don’t know the worth of a life? You don’t think I do what I do to _protect_ this city? Bruce, when will you learn?”

“We’ve been over this, Jason, and I’d rather not discuss this again.” Bruce turns around, his cape whipping around dramatically, as he stiffly makes his way to the Batcomputer.

“Every damn time you do this, old man. You walk away, you think--”

“Jason.” A voice, always kind and always soft to those the voice treasures, comes from his right as a golden hand makes its way to his right shoulder. Jason has half a mind to shrug it off and ignore the shorter man next to him, but something stops him; the man’s eyes are trained on his, a spark of something almost...sad.

“What do you want, Boy Wonder?” Jason spat at the man with everything he can muster.

“I haven’t heard that nickname in years. Listen, Jason, Bruce is...well, to put it mildly, stubborn.” Dick squeezes Jason’s shoulder. As a reassurance or something else, Jason is not entirely sure. “You know how stuck he is in his ways. I agree that the lives of criminals should be spared--”

“Of course you do. Always kissing up to the boss’s ass, not unlike most thugs I know; my own men try to kiss my ass.”

Dick breathes out a tired sigh and slides his hand down to take Jason’s bicep and lead him upstairs. Considering Dick is still somewhat in his Nightwing uniform and Alfred would not like that at all, Jason tentatively lets himself be guided by the eldest.

The ride in the elevator and walk to the living room are silent, but not uncomfortable. Jason takes a seat in one chair and Dick takes a seat adjacent to Jason.

“Jason, the lives of criminals should be spared. Some of them are scared straight after prison.”

“You of all people should know how hard it is for former convicts to get jobs, Dick. Plus, what about the ones who aren’t scared? Who pride themselves in their criminal works? Who’ll be repeat offenders and continue to disregard innocent lives? The rogues, Dick? What about them?”

“That’s...where Bruce and I admittedly disagree. Believe it or not, I beat the Joker to death not long after I was informed of your death. I did it in a haze of grief and guilt. Afterward, I couldn’t believe that I had taken a life, but _never_ did I feel bad it was the Joker. It scared me I had that capability.”

“I find it hard to believe that you, the Golden Boy, actually did that.”

“Bruce’ll tell you I did it. He also has the video feed from my domino mask saved on his computer if you want evidence.”

Jason takes a moment to consider, then realizes a discrepancy with Dick’s story. “You said you beat him to death; why is he alive? Don’t tell me Bruce resuscitated him.” Jason adds a scoff at the end.

But Dick’s silence is more than telling.

“That bastard did. What’s your point in telling me, Dick?”

A slight smirk appears on the first Robin’s face. “I wouldn’t exactly be pissed or defending Bruce if someone like the Joker did end up dead.”

Dick gets up after patting Jason’s knee with one of his hands and exits the room, presumably in search of Alfred or to take off his uniform--hard to do by oneself with a stitched shoulder.

Jason pushes himself out of the chair not long after Dick left and makes his way to the nearest Batcave entrance. For the first time in his life, both previous and present, he hesitates to press the button. Thoughts run wild through his mind, too scattered for even him to fully comprehend what they are about.

He breathes and pushes the button. In the elevator, he hears distinct raised voices and can’t believe what he hears until the door opens and he sees it.

Dick and Bruce are locked in a verbal battle; the subject is Jason himself.

“It was my fault I got injured! Why the hell are you chastising Jason!?”

“He needs to learn proper discipline and right from wrong! This family doesn’t kill!”

“Did you ever think that maybe he doesn’t feel like part of this family!? That he never will because whenever you look at him all you see is a failure? You push him away constantly like you did to me in the past; like you’ve done with Tim to a certain extent.”

“Dick…”

“No, you need to wake up and realize what you’re doing.”

Jason observes from the balcony as tense silence settles into the Batcave, Bruce and Dick locked in a heated staring contest, both chests falling heavily but steadily. The heavy exhales through the two men’s noses faintly meet Jason’s ears.

Bruce is the one to turn his back. “Go rest. You hit your head too hard on the pavement.”

Dick folds his face into an incredulous look. “‘Go rest’? Are you...you know what? Fine.” Now dressed in gray sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt, he turns and walks up the stairs, passing Jason but not before telling him something.

He leans in and whispers, “I’ll be at Tim’s. If you want, you can come; I know Tim said you’re always welcome there.”

He gives Jason one last pat on the shoulder before heading to the elevator. Jason jogs to catch up, offering a small smile that tells Dick everything without saying anything.

As the doors close, there’s only one clear thought in Jason’s mind: Not only does he carry the weight of being a failure to Bruce, he now carries the extra weight of knowing he’s a knife between Dick and Bruce, someone who he never thought he’d consider a brother, much less a friend, and someone he once called father, but can now barely consider a mentor and partner.

 _Walking towards you with my head down_ __  
_Lookin' at the ground, I'm embarrassed for you_ __  
_Paranoia, what did I do wrong this time?_ __  
_That's parents for you_ __  
_Very loyal? Shoulda had my back_ __  
_But you put a knife in it—my hands are full_ __  
_What else should I carry for you?_  
_I cared for you, but…_

**************

_Feels like we're on the edge right now_ __  
_I wish that I could say I'm proud_ __  
_I'm sorry that I let you down_  
_Le-le-let you down_

The small glass of scotch on the rocks gets slammed down on the wooden bar in front of Jason. Some liquid escapes out the top but the man can’t find it in himself to care. He flags down the bartender and holds up two fingers signaling two more drinks--a bad idea considering the glass of scotch is about his 15th drink that night.

The bartender just sighs but worry creeps into his eyes. The Red Hood frequented his bar and he can’t say he’s not grateful; the Red Hood offered him and his establishment protection as long as he didn’t cater to anyone underage and served only Red Hood’s men--something that worked out for the better because the bartender hasn’t had a bar fight in months.

The bartender has witnessed the Red Hood holding his alcohol, has seen him drinking, but never to this extent. He worries but doesn’t ask questions, just serves the next two drinks hesitantly.

Red Hood just nods in acknowledge before finishing his previous drink and moving onto the next one.

“Hey, sugah. Feelin’ down tonight?” A feminine sultry yet familiar voice sounds in his left ear as a hand gently slides its way onto his shoulder. Jason looks up to the ceiling, praying for patience to tell off the broad.

“Listen, sweetheart, I don’t--” His words fell away as he turns his head and meets Artemis’s eyes through the white lens of his domino mask.

Artemis chuckles then removes her hand from his person and steals the untouched glass of scotch.

“You just stole my alcohol, Arty,” Jason says begrudgingly, albeit slightly slurred due to his tipsiness. He looks back down at the glass he currently holds and debates downing the last swig. “What’re you doing here, anyway?”

Artemis puts her glass back down on the bar. “We’re worried, Bizzaro and myself. You’ve ignored my texts and calls for the past two hours.”

Two hours? How long has he been here?

“I do have to say your hypocrisy is amusing, little one; telling the bartender to not cater to underage patrons while you are underage yourself at 20 years old.”

Jason’s response is a scoff before he downs the last of what’s left in his glass. “I certainly don’t feel 20.”

Artemis shoots him a sad look, locking her eyes on the side of his face. “Come home, Jason. You haven’t been by for at least a month and a half; you have nothing to prove.”

She takes a hand and places it on the nape of Jason’s neck, forcing him to look at her. His eyes are slightly glazed over with tipsiness and it’s the hurt and sadness in his eyes that sting her heart. She desperately wants to help out her friend, to know what causes such a look, because she rarely sees such a look in his eyes; it’s always the fiery passion of rage or the excitement of an upcoming firefight.

“Do I even have a home, Artemis?”

The exiled Amazon never heard such a broken sentence from the boy in front of her. Her heart shatters as the question highlights how lonely he truly feels; she knows of his close friendship with the previous outlaws, but to feel he never had a home is an entirely different animal.

He’s told her about his entire life, both pre- and post-resurrection. He was such a happy boy when he lived with Bruce, and now, to her, he might just be a broken shell of what was. He’s still so young in her eyes, still nothing more than a little boy who needs to feel like he belongs somewhere, still feels he has something to prove.

Why can’t he see the people who love him? Who gave him a home?

Slowly, silently, Artemis takes one of Jason’s hands and pulls the glove off. She sets his hand between the two of hers and they both stare silently at their joined hands.

“My men might think I’ve gone soft and think they can betray my orders,” he mumbles.

“Really? Because it looks to me they’re all making a point to look away and ignore us,” Artemis whispers into the space between them.

Jason snatches a look at the full bar and sure enough, her words ring true. He smiles a little to himself, but not sure why.

“Little one,” Artemis begins, placing her top hand under Jason’s chin and lifting it, “you had a home with Bruce; you had a home with Kori and Roy; now, you have a home with Bizzaro and myself. Come. Home. Or I will lift you over my shoulder and drag you out of here myself.”

In his haze of drunkenness, he leans in and kisses Artemis on the cheek. Artemis kisses his cheek back and he pulls away.

“After all my bullshit, you still decided to come and retrieve me? You’re amazing,” Jason tells her.

Artemis gets up from her barstool and turns Jason around in his by holding onto his hand then letting it drop to his thigh.

She folds her arms across her chest and smiles. “So will the great Red Hood drag his ass out of the bar or do I have to do it for him?”

Jason chuckles then turns around and grabs his helmet from the bar. He hops down from the barstool and bows slightly. “After you, m’lady.”

She walks toward the door and opens it, the cold air of the Gotham summer storming the front of the bar. He places his helmet on and walks to Artemis where the two left the bar. Artemis had to assist him by draping one of his arms over her shoulders but she didn’t mind; to her, he’s finally coming home.

Unfortunate the demons in his head have other ideas that he can’t quiet.

 _All these voices in my head get loud_ __  
_I wish that I could shut them out_ __  
_I'm sorry that I let you down_  
_Le-le-let you down_

**************

_Yeah, you don't wanna make this work_ __  
_You just wanna make this worse_ __  
_Want me to listen to you, but you don't ever hear my words_ __  
_You don't wanna know my hurt yet_ _  
_ _Let me guess, you want an apology, probably_

  
Robin sits on the pier, soaking wet and bone-cold after being pulled from the water. In an attempt to ensure the youngest doesn’t acquire hypothermia, Red hood wraps the little bird in his jacket which practically drowns the boy.

Hood makes his way to his motorcycle that waits at the end of the walk. He doesn’t know what happened, but he can guess. All he saw was Robin being flung into the water seconds before the boat exploded and instinct came over him as he ran and dived in to save the youngest.

He shakes his head as he mounts the motorcycle and adjusts Robin so he doesn’t slip off at high speeds. Good thing the boy has enough sense to have a death grip on the man.

Just as he is about to take off, Jason hesitates; should he take Robin back to the manor or back to one of Hood’s safehouses?

On one hand, taking Robin back to the manor would allow Hood to have alone time and not have to deal with the brat but on the other hand, Hood knows what waits for Robin as soon as the boy steps into the Batcave.

One of his safehouses it is.

He revs up the engine and takes off down the road.

“Voice activation. Contact Batman on a secure channel,” Jason demands to his helmet.

 _“Voice activation online. Contacting: Batman,”_ the AI responds.

A gravelly voice greets Jason’s ears that hold on underline of panic. _“What the hell do you want right now, Hood?”_

“Just letting you know I have Robin. Most likely he snuck out to deal with whoever or whatever was on that boat. I’m taking him back to my place where he’ll spend the night.”

_“Absolutely not. You will return him to the cave immediately.”_

“I think not, old man. Deactivate communication with Batman.”

_“Jason--”_

_“Communication with Batman deactivated.”_

Hood lets out a sigh, glancing down at the boy who’s grip hasn’t loosened in the slightest. He begins to wonder if Robin thinks the Red Hood is Batman; why else would Robin trust him so much?  
He lets that thought slip away as he comes upon one of his safehouses and parks his motorcycle. With a still-clinging Robin, he makes his way up the stairs and opens a door on the third floor.

As he steps inside, Robin whimpers as he’s jostled and that brings Jason’s full attention to the boy.

“Why the hell?” Jason wonders quietly, taking in the shivering boy. He ignores it for now and places Robin on the couch. After making sure the youngest is wrapped up, Jason goes to the bathroom and prepares a warm bath for the boy.

He holds a hand under the water to gauge the temperature. “Whimpering? Since when does Damian whimper? Even with cracked ribs about a year ago he barely made a sound. Maybe I should’ve taken him to the Batcave.”

He removes his hand from the water and treks back into the living room where he took off his helmet and ripped off his domino mask (a horrible idea considering it hurt like a bitch and he tried not to scream). He also removed his boots and gloves, now dressed in his two-piece uniform and the various firearms accessories adorning it.

“Come on, demon brat, let’s get you--what the hell?” Jason walks around the couch to see Damian ripped his domino mask off, clutching the sides of his head and kneeling on the floor in front of a smashed comlink, panting heavily.

Jason kneels in front of Damian and looks at him. “Hey, kid.” When Damian doesn’t respond, Jason tries again. “Hey, kid!”

Damian slowly looks up at him and Jason can see tear trails down his cheeks. The boy’s eyes are unfocused and watery...and Jason is afraid.

“Damian?” he asks very quietly, barely above a whisper. Before he can react the boy launches himself at Jason and buries his face into the older’s chest. Jason doesn’t know what to do, so he picks him up and heads to the bathroom where the warm bath waits.

Jason sits on the toilet and places Damian on his lap. He tries to pull the boy away from his chest but finds it a hard task.

“Damian, you’re going to have to let go, okay?” Jason’s voice is gentle as he rubs Damian’s back. Sure, this is as uncharacteristic for Jason as it is for Damian, but right now his instincts to protect children are taking over and it’s not something he wants to fight.

He hears Damian mumble something into his chest and leans back to let the boy know he can’t hear him. Damian removes his head and looks up at the man, fresh tears threatening to spill. “I killed them; I killed them all. I’ve disappointed them. I’ve disappointed them!”

“Shh, Damian, you haven’t disappointed anyone.”

“Yes, I have! I managed to get them killed and now Batman wants me! My grandfather wants my head!”

“Look at me. Listen to me. Get out of those wet clothes and get into the warm bath. I’ll protect you from them.”

“Can you?” Jason has never seen such desperation and fear in the boy’s eyes as he does right now and quickly nods his head yes. Slowly, carefully, Damian climbs down and begins to undress as Jason leaves.

“Where’re you going, Jay?” Damian asks. The nickname makes the addressed man stop before closing the door; Damian always called him Todd or cruel names, but never an affectionate nickname, let alone his first name.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll be outside the door. I’ll hear you if you need me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Jason shut the door behind him and wandered into the kitchen to dig around for a fear toxin antidote. He stole a recent supply from the Batcave about a couple months ago, so the core toxin elements shouldn’t’ve changed much if it’s a new strain.

He remains baffled at Damian’s display, though. He feels Damian knows something he doesn’t and it doesn’t settle well in his stomach. For now, he has to find the antidote.

As soon as he has it in hand and turns around, he finds himself staring at his helmet. He considers telling Bruce, but maybe not now.

 _How can we keep going at a rate like this?_ __  
_We can't, so I guess I'ma have to leave_ __  
_Please, don't come after me_ __  
_I just wanna be alone right now, I don't really wanna think at all_  
_Go ahead, just drink it off_

Bruce finds himself worried sick about Damian and looks in every safehouse he knows Jason holds. To no avail, he fails to find them and figures Jason got a new one somewhere on the outskirts of the city. He hates the feeling of not knowing exactly what happened to his blood son; he knows Jason won’t intentionally hurt him, right?

Then again, Jason tried to kill Tim in the Titans Tower.

Dammit. Bruce heads home on Alfred’s orders, knowing just what the butler is capable of if Bruce didn’t listen.

Bruce will just have to have faith that Jason’s changed enough to not hurt a child.

 _Both know you're gonna call tomorrow like nothing's wrong_ __  
_Ain't that what you always do?_  
_I feel like every time I talk to you, you're in an awful mood_

The last thing Jason expected was Damian cuddled into his side with the belief that Jason would protect him from his own father and grandfather. Yet here he is.

Due to the lack of clothing for Damian, Jason had to dry Damian’s underwear in the downstairs dryer and give the boy one of his shirts which Damian is currently drowning in without a care.

Jason’s mind kept floating back to the genuine fear in Damian’s eyes and wondered what the boy has seen when under the fear toxin; it must’ve been horrible for Damian to react in such a way and to seek comfort from Jason of all people.

Of course, this is something better left for tomorrow morning when Jason will receive nothing but shit from Bruce, even after everything he’s already done and after Bruce knows Jason can’t hurt a child in this state.

 _What else can I offer you?_ _  
_ _There's nothing left right now, I gave it all to you_

**************

_Feels like we're on the edge right now_ __  
_I wish that I could say I'm proud_ __  
_I'm sorry that I let you down_  
_Le-le-let you down_

No matter how much of Gotham he hates, he can never get over how the moon dances on her ugly waters; he’s said it before and he’ll say it again: he hates how poetic the city is about herself, how juxtaposed she makes herself.

The cold air from the harbor meets his face and he breathes in the delicate salt intermingled from the ocean spray. He kicks his legs like a child as he sits on the edge of the pier. Multiple times he’s thought of tying a weight to one of his ankles and dropping it in, dragging him with it down into the depths and slowly dying as water fills his lungs.

Multiple times he’s thought of cutting his grapple line so when he jumps from the building it’d look like an accident at first glance.

Multiple times he’s thought of putting a bullet through his brain in the middle of a firefight on the nights he wore only his domino mask so it’d look like an accident at first glance.

As the days blurred into months, his suicidal thoughts became increasingly more creative and, admittedly, more deranged. He’s been lectured by not only Batman but Nightwing and Red Robin about his increased recklessness, so he did his best to hide his haunting thoughts--it works so far.

The one thing that stops him from ending his life is the people his life depends on. If he kills himself, crime rates will go back up, the innocent will be slaughtered by street gangs in bigger numbers, and the drug cartels will once again wage a territorial war in the streets.

If he kills himself, he drags thousands to the grave with him.

He wants the voices to stop, the insecurities to vanish; his main propellant has been rage from since he became the Red Hood and with the voice of rage, the voices of everything else drowned out.

Since his experiences, the voice of rage is no longer a voice for the others, but it remains. Everything else has come to the forefront.

Now he doesn’t know what to think, what to do about himself anymore.

At this point, he doesn’t know who he’s failing: Gotham or himself.

No matter how much of Gotham he hates, he can never get over how the moon dances on her ugly waters.

 _All these voices in my head get loud_ __  
_I wish that I could shut them out_ __  
_I'm sorry that I let you down_ _  
_ _Le-le-let you down_

  
**************

 _Yeah, don't talk down to me_ __  
_That's not gonna work now_ __  
_Packed all my clothes and I moved out_ __  
_I don't even wanna go to your house_ __  
_Every time I sit on that couch_ __  
_I feel like you lecture me, eventually, I bet that we_ __  
_Could have made this work_ __  
_And prolly woulda figured things out_ __  
_But I guess I'm a letdown_  
_But it's cool, I checked out_

The Red Hood watches from the shadows of the clouds from the top of a roof as Batman interrogates a Joker thug for the third time this week. Red Hood has more inside information to the Joker’s whereabouts and his plans due to his men hanging out with all sorts of thugs. But he doesn’t tell Batman: it’s too much fun watching the Bat run around desperate for information to save his precious city and her people.

After Batman punches the thug unconscious, Red Hood makes his way to the ground behind Batman. He folds his arms and leans against one of the buildings sandwiching the two men.

“What do you want, Hood?” is Batman’s response, his back to the former.

“Nothing. Just wanted to know how trying to find the Joker’s going,” Red Hood answers.

“Fine,” Batman growls out. The other man just smirks.

“Alright. I do have a request; it’s very simple.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow morning. 11 am. The little cafe on the corner of 32nd and Ranyard. Meet me there.”

“Wouldn’t that look suspicious?”

“Only if you make it. If you hold even a shred of decency, you’ll comply.”

Batman stays silent, possibly pondering the request. Suddenly, he shoots out his grappling hook and disappears into the night.

The smirk on Red Hood’s face falls and he walks from the ally onto the awaiting street, opting to walk back to his hideout until a call comes in.

_“Hey, boss. We have a problem at warehouse C-67.”_

Red Hood touches the side of his helmet to respond. “I don’t like the sound of that. Better fix it quick.”

 _“Hood, it’s the Bat. He’s found out about the operation and he’s--”_ The audio fizzled out and Red Hood quickly switched off the channel in his helmet.

Damn you, Bruce.

The next morning Jason shows up about five minutes before 11 and waits that amount of time. Bruce steps out of his car and immediately the patrons outside the cafe fall into hushed and rushed whispers as to why the Bruce Wayne is at a meager cafe in a not-the-best part of town.

“Mr. Wayne. So pleased to finally meet you,” Jason greets as he holds out a hand and steps closer to the billionaire philanthropist. Most residents in that part of town know Jason is the Red Hood because his build and jawline (and hairstyle) are all unmistakable; those who do know keep it secret because of what he does for them. The people at the cafe who know Jason’s alter ego are curious and a bit afraid to know what he wants with the city’s favorite playboy.

“Mr. Todd,” Bruce pushes out through his teeth. So what if he shakes Jason’s hand harder than he needed to?

Jason leads the way to the waitress waiting to seat them.

“Booth or table?” she asks.

“Booth. Preferably away from the windows...and people,” Jason answers. He’s eyeing a corner booth perfect for the talk he wants to have with the other man.

“Right this way.” The waitress turns around and leads the men to the exact booth Jason was eyeing. After both men settled themselves opposite each other, the waitress handed Bruce a menu.

“The usual, Jason?” she asks.

“Yes, please. And coffee for Mr. Wayne.”

“Alright. I give you another couple of minutes to look over the menu, Mr. Wayne.” She walks away, aiming toward the kitchens in the back.

“What’s the point of this, Mr. Todd?” Bruce says, setting down his menu and looking at Jason.

“Please, drop the formalities; doesn’t quite suit us. The point of this, Bruce, is to keep you in line; can’t blow up at me or walk away in this setting for obvious reasons.”

“You want to talk to me about something; get on with it.”

“So impatient. Can’t even wait for your coffee. Speaking of which, thank you, Sarah.”

The waitress, Sarah, comes back with two coffees and sets them down accompanied by creamers.

“Have you decided on your order, Mr. Wayne?” She pulls out a writing pad and pen.

“Unbuttered toast and scrambled eggs, thank you.”

She writes down Bruce’s order and Jason’s usual, then leaves.

Bruce tugs at the lapel of his black suit jacket before folding his hands in front of him. Jason, on the other hand, is leaned back onto the booth cushion with one arm across the back and the other hand holding his cup of coffee; he’s relaxed while Bruce is tense.

“About our nightly activities. I need you to stop keeping tabs on me and interfering with my work,” Jason tells Bruce calmly after sipping his coffee.

“Who said Batman is keeping tabs on you?” Bruce coldly says as a way to deter Jason from continuing and possibly revealing Bruce’s alter ego.

“Batman likes to think he’s clever with his tracking devices and having thugs report to him after them being scared straight from prison. Tell me, how many operations of his were ruined because of his little thug moles?”

Bruce microscopically tenses, something an average eye would miss. Jason doesn’t.

“You act as if I know the Batman personally, Jason.”

“How else would he get his gadgets, Mr. Wayne? Besides, just tell him the Red Hood has asked the great Batman to step off his ass. Being a helicopter parent isn’t healthy.”

Jason takes another sip of his coffee as Bruce fiddles with the cuffs of his jacket sleeves. Eventually, he opts to take off his jacket and now sits in a black dress pant and white dress shirt.

“You’re making me feel underdressed for the occasion,” comments Jason who wears a plain black shirt and a pair of skinny jeans.

A tense silence befalls the two as they wait for their food. When Sarah comes back with the food, she quietly places the dishes on the table and walks away.

Bruce bites into a slice of toast as Jason takes a bite of a strip of bacon. The younger man finishes his bacon strip before speaking once again.

“The Red Hood is not going to be swayed to the Batman’s side of morality,” Jason plainly states, finishing off his statement with a bite of pancake.

Bruce finishes off the half slice of toast and swallows. “Batman still holds out hope that the Red Hood will see the flaws in his...flexible...moral code.”

“A naivety on his part, then,” Jason says through a mouthful of egg and sausage link.

Bruce takes a sip of his coffee to wash down the toast then takes a bite of egg. The two fall back into silence until Bruce is finished with his meal and Jason halfway through his.

“The Red Hood runs a crime ring and has done more to decrease crime rates in this city than Batman has in the last 15 years, Bruce; that’s not something that can be ignored,” Jason starts once again.

“He doesn’t have to do it through killing people. As I understand it, Red Hood controls drug cartels and threatens his men,” the older man says calmly.

“Red Hood doesn’t bluff; every threat is real and Batman knows for a fact that the Hood carries out his threats. Sure, he doesn’t kill every criminal that crosses his path because sometimes he just wants to have fun, so he carries rubber bullets to hurt.”

“Having fun is the exact way the Joker puts it, Jason,” Bruce says with a warning tone.

“Doesn’t make what I said any less true. The sooner Batman comes to terms with the reality of Red Hood, the better off the Bat would be. The sooner _you_ come to terms with the reality of _me_ , the better off you’d be.”

“And what reality is that?”

“I’m no longer your son just as the Red Hood is no longer an apprentice of the Bat. You can’t tell me what to do, what not to do, or how to live my life. You’ll be more at ease with yourself the sooner you realize that; I was.”

Bruce can do nothing but stare at the man in front of him as Jason finished his breakfast. Sarah came back with the check and Jason placed the money in the fold as she cleared the dishes.

Jason gets up from his booth and leans into Bruce’s ear. “Do me a favor and never step into my territory again; you and the Bat.”

He straightens up and steps away, a satisfied smile smeared on his lips as he turns and makes his way to the front of the cafe. He salutes the waitress at the door with two fingers and steps out into the sunlight, turning right and disappears down Ranyard.

 _Oh, you wanna be friends now?_ __  
_Okay, let's put my fake face on and pretend now_ __  
_Sit around and talk about the good times that didn't even happen_ __  
_I mean, why are you laughing?_ __  
_Must have missed that joke, let me see if I can find a reaction_  
_No, but at least you're happy_

**************

_Feels like we're on the edge right now_ __  
_I wish that I could say I'm proud_ __  
_I'm sorry that I let you down_  
_Oh, I let you down_

“Allow me to illustrate this perfectly for you, Bruce; either the girl lived or the Joker did! I wasn’t going to stand there and let the lunatic taunt us!”

“You didn’t have to put a bullet in his brain! Incapacitated him at best!”

“Your delusional fantasy world of no killing has made him take _hundreds_ of lives! I stopped him in his tracks! One life for thousands sounds pretty damn good to me!”

“Enough!”

Both men stare at each other across the dead body of the Joker between them. Each man pants heavily due to the amount of energy exerted from the yelling match alone.

The dead silence of the warehouse speaks louder than words as their eyes bore into one another. Batman has his cape wrapped around him, a black statue of fear, while Jason stands in a fighter’s stance, a pistol situated in one hand still pointed at the body on the ground; even in death, the Joker doesn’t fail to smile.

Neither person moves an inch, too afraid to disturb the silence of...of what? The raw emotions flying from the late father and son? The gravity of what the younger man did? The absence of maniacal laughter at the situation? Too afraid to disturb what, exactly?

The creaking of a railing overhead breaks the silence as both living bodies jump out of the way before it comes crashing down on the Joker’s head, nearly decapitating the dead body. Batman had to hold back to urge to vomit while Red Hood went by unphased.

“Can’t bring him back again like when Dick killed him, uh, Batsy?” the Red Hood sneered, using the Joker’s nickname to spit back in the Bat’s face.

All Bruce can do is stare at his former son’s helmet, desperately wishing to see his face, to talk this out.

Unfortunately, he knows that time is gone.

“All I’ll be to you is a disappointment; I’ve never done anything to make you proud of me and I never will.”

“Jason, that’s the farthest thing from the truth. I am proud of you, but just because I’m proud of you doesn’t mean I approve of everything you do.”

“Tell me a reason you’re proud of me.”

“...What?”

“Give me a reason that you’re proud, that I haven’t let you down.”

Bruce stays silent.

“Figures.”

The Red Hood turns around and walks out of the warehouse, all the way back to his safehouse on the outskirts of the city--a safehouse he knows Batman hasn’t found yet.

 _All these voices in my head get loud_ __  
_And I wish that I could shut them out_ __  
_I'm sorry that I let you down_ _  
_ _Oh, let you down_

  
**************

_I’m sorry_

The only things missing from his full uniform are the domino mask and the helmet both of which sit on the wooden coffee table in front of him; a gun soon joins them.

Jason pushes himself off the couch and saunters to the window overlooking the city. If he ignores the crime and filth going on in the streets, he can call the city beautiful.

He tears his eyes away and makes his way to the kitchen where he opens a drawer and pulls out a manila envelope that holds a 20 page (front and back) letter explaining everything.

He goes back to sit on the couch and places the envelope beside the domino mask.

He looks at the gun and sighs.

_I’m so sorry now_

A week passes. No one is none the wiser. Until tonight.

Red Robin knocks on the door. “Hood? I brought food from the Mexican restaurant you like.”

After not getting a reply, Red Robin sighs and begins to pick the lock to the safehouse. “Alright, you ass--Jesus Christ!” A putrid smell hits his nose and he drops the bag of food. “Did you hide a dead body in here or something?”

As he gets closer to the couch, the smell strengthens. He sees a mop of black hair on the couch arm and Jason’s domino and helmet on the coffee table along with a manila envelope.

“Nononononono,” Tim repeatedly says. He rounds on the couch and he can’t help the sudden cry that falls from his lips. He directs his eyes to the ceiling and finds tried patches of blood; he travels back to behind the couch and finds blood splatters there as well.

He does the only thing he can do: he calls Bruce.

“Jason is dead.”

A family-only funeral is arranged for the next day.

The weather can’t be decent enough to storm or at least have a cloud in the sky.

The only sound at the funeral is the sound of a crinkling manila envelope with seven little words on it:

_I’m sorry that I let you down._

**Author's Note:**

> You know what'd make me the happiest? Leaving me comments! I love hearing feedback and people's reactions to my writing; it's such a good motivator.
> 
> I also have a tumblr by the same name; come say hi!


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